For Eternity
by 4getfulimaginator
Summary: It all starts with a feisty princess, her thirst for adventure, and a mysterious enchanter: the day Emma comes of age, she asks to go on a daring quest like her ancestors before her, but she never expected to accept a dark challenge that tests her endurance. Fairytale Land AU, no curse, dark!Hook. A Captain Swan three-shot.
1. Part I - The Quest

**A/N: This three-shot is based on a fairy tale I love, "Petronella" by Jay Williams. It's very AU and some of the characters are a bit OOC, there is magic, the curse never happened, it's set in the Enchanted Forest/Fairytale Land, and Emma never met Neal or had Henry.**

**FYI: This story is totally different (and much darker) than my other CS fic, "****One Against the Wind****." (To those of you who are waiting for the next chapter update: it's coming along. Very soon. Just not yet.)**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

PART ONE: THE QUEST

* * *

Emma had always been too outspoken for her own good. The habit (she thought it was good, while everyone else believed it to be bad) had started when she had demanded to take sword-fighting lessons instead of listening to her etiquette instructor, and it continued until it became part of her very nature.

She hated fancy ball gowns and the mindless suitors begging to be by her side like some kind of adoring, clinging pets ― only animals were much cuter and not talkative, and they only wanted affection, not her throne. She loathed when her friends teased her to act more like a lady and less like a man, and she tried not to care when royal visitors ridiculed her behavior behind her back.

Still, there were moments when she was glad to be a princess. When she was a little girl, she had helped Pinocchio be reunited with his father, having him stay in the palace until the royal query had been answered, and whenever her father had audiences with their subjects, she would sit by his side and listen to their requests, even participating in their disputes.

It was simple: she liked helping people. It was just when others pushed her to "help" herself that she became really annoyed.

While Charming scolded her actions in public but lauded her in private, Snow always gave Emma the same secretive smile, silently approving of her only child in every way. Frankly, Emma had never paid heed to anyone's opinions but those of her parents. And in the end, they were all that mattered. Them, and the kingdom. She was certain of their love.

What she couldn't fathom right now was why her father and her mother were arguing so vehemently against her latest idea. It wasn't as if no one had done this before ― it was, after all, only a quest. She wasn't going off to fight a dragon...though that was an interesting possibility...

"Emma, this is absurd," Charming interrupted brusquely, cutting off whatever Snow had intended to add. "Those centuries of tradition you're waving in our faces apply to the first-born _son_, not the―"

"Are you saying I'm incapable of doing this because I'm a girl?" Emma challenged, hands on her hips. "Dad, I've been handling a sword since I was old enough to sew, and even you said just last week that my fighting techniques were unparalleled and my tactics unique... I don't want marriage to be the only climax of my life ― I want real experiences!"

"What your father is trying to say," Snow commented softly, "is that any quest usually leads to danger...and we don't want to lose you, dearest...not for the sake of impressing the kingdom or any prince. Your gender has nothing to do with it ― and neither does marriage."

Emma sighed deeply, resting her head in her hands as she slid to the floor. "I don't want to impress anyone ― I ― I just―" Stretching her booted feet out in front of her, she looked up at the ceiling, decorated with hundreds of painted cupids and flimsy angels with wings. At least they could fly away when they wanted, while she was rooted to the ground ― upheld by responsibility and her birthright and hundreds of other things which were both equally meaningful and imprisoning. What did she want, though?

When Snow and Charming reached out their hands to her, she grabbed them eagerly, standing up to nestle into their dual embrace. "I want to prove to myself that I'm capable of doing something on my own," she whispered. "Is it wrong to want to find adventure, like you and Mom did? To not wait for it to find me?"

Charming stared at her, a smile crossing his face when he shared a knowing glance with Snow. "No, it's not. But is it wrong for us to worry about you?"

Emma tilted her head, her eyes silently pleading with them. "Worrying doesn't mean something bad will happen meanwhile. Please...give me a chance? To prove myself to _me_?"

Letting out a disturbed sigh of his own, the king seemed to slump in defeat under his daughter's scrutinizing gaze, nodding. Snow only grinned, nudging her husband. "Seems like I'll need to get out my old quiver and arrows from the storage room..."

* * *

"For the thousandth time, if you keep contradicting me, then I'll just choose by myself," Emma snapped, brushing aside her companions' protests as she shouldered the quiver recklessly. August rolled his eyes, a gesture acutely familiar to when she had met him as a child and he was still called by his given name of Pinocchio.

"And may I remind you, _Princess_, that your parents the king and queen personally asked us to accompany you? It's not like Jefferson and I wanted to be chaperoning the most bull-headed creature in all of the Enchanted Forest!"

On seeing Emma's grimace and then her accusing pout, Jefferson tipped his hat at her in a meek salute. "Sorry, Your Highness...but he's right. We're here because we have to be, not because we want to. Why, I only have to go down that other path and I'll surely find my way to Grace, whom I haven't seen in weeks and who is surely missing me. They grow up so fast," he finished wistfully.

August only pointed at the last crossroad, the curse of having a three-way fork in the middle of a forest. "And I could be having a splendid time in Granny's tavern ― I haven't tasted the ale there in ages―"

"Or flirted with Red, you mean. You do know she's at least two decades older than you, right?" Emma retorted with a smirk, which elicited a pronounced frown from her friend.

"It's none of your business," he snorted eventually, adjusting his collar self-consciously.

"Hey," Jefferson uttered suddenly, watching as Emma and August paced in circles by the forkpost, "I have an idea. Why don't we split up and each of us go where we want to go?"

"Because that's what Charming and Snow ordered us _not_ to do, by royal decree? I don't know about you, but I'm not keen on dying just yet." August shrugged his shoulders, clearly frustrated.

"No, I know that ― I'm not mad ― but we could agree to disagree, see what I mean? We'd do what we want and not tell."

"I cannot believe that the oldest person here is telling us youngsters to get lost and break the rules," Emma said, letting mock disbelief seep into her voice. However, she was certainly intrigued, to say the least.

Jefferson shook his head, unamused. "I'm touched by your reference to my age, dear Emma, but seeing as you're seventeen years of age, I have the utmost confidence in your intelligence and your decisions." His whisper pierced her ears. "Or are you just afraid to take a risk now that you have the opportunity?"

Something inside Emma snapped at that biting remark. Fear was a foreign concept to her, and it was going to stay that way. "August, Jefferson," she announced loudly, "go for a walk. Your assistance is no longer required ― by order of the princess."

She disliked using her authority as an excuse to get her way, but there was no other way to get those two to shut the hell up.

* * *

In a matter of minutes, August had run longingly in the direction of Granny's, while Jefferson was whistling merrily, twirling his top hat on his journey back to his daughter and her family.

A flash of passing sunshine through the tree leaves, and she realized her predicament. She really was all alone.

It was a difficult feeling to handle, actually. After being surrounded by people constantly her whole life, being deserted was a shock. She should be rejoicing that she was completely self-reliant at last, that adventure could seek her out when no one was there to fight her battles or hold her hand. It was right to dismiss her guards and "take the risk," as Jefferson had stated. Wasn't it?

Instead, she missed her parents and her home, and nostalgia was undulating over her emotions with a fierce wave of resentment. For the first time in a long time, Emma was at a loss at what to do next.

The final path, the road not taken, was beckoning, its wide-sweeping trees and shadows encasing some dark secret, some silent mystery. But her feet refused to move. She didn't know what she was looking for or where to find it.

"Having some trouble deciding to leave, dearie?" A chuckle broke the silence, and suddenly the person she never wanted to meet was right in front of her. _Rumplestiltskin._

"What do you want?" she snarled irritably, fingering the helm of her sword. "And how the hell did you get here?"

"Ah, is that any way to greet a friend, _Emma_?" he grinned. "You do recall it was _I_ who brought your parents together and helped them defeat Regina?"

She sniffed, crossing her arms over her chest. "Yes...but what does that have to do with me?"

He strode over to her languidly, his fingers splayed in a gesture of deep, sinister contemplation. "Everything. You're the product of True Love, dearie ― and True Love never fails to break any curse."

She was puzzled. "Why are you telling me this?"

He sighed dramatically. "For someone so sharp with a blade, you can be very obtuse sometimes." He leaned in closer, his eyes fixated on her face. "I have a...proposition for you."

Deals and Rumplestiltskin went together like bread and butter. Hearing that he wanted to make a deal with her, of all people, was definitely bad news.

* * *

"Let me get this straight: you've been following me, you knew this day was going to happen long before it happened, and now you want me to find your son for you―"

"You seem to understand it perfectly," Rumplestiltskin purred.

Her eyes narrowed. "I'm not finished. First, how did you know where and when to find me, if you're no longer _the Dark One_?" she countered.

"I may no longer have my magical abilities," he explained, gesticulating absentmindedly, "but I still have the gift of prophecy. Or have you forgotten what the stories say?"

Emma ignored the question, focusing on the details she was determined to know. "Okay...so _you_ don't have magic anymore. Why can't you get Regina to do this?"

"Why, dearie ― I'm appalled at your ignorance!" he replied with a mischievous smirk. "The former Evil Queen was cured by your beloved parents' 'True Love's kiss' ― it healed the darkness in her heart and broke the curse on this land. She wants nothing more than to be with her adopted son and to never speak to me again."

"I can see why," she muttered under her breath.

"Anyway," he continued, "this particular task is beyond even Regina's powers. No, it will require _yours_, and yours alone."

Her jaw dropped open, words transmuted into soft gasps. _How did he find out? No one knew, except for her parents. No one. _The way he was eyeing her was getting on her nerves ― it was as if he could see through her, deep into her soul.

She responded through gritted teeth, "Did your special 'gift' tell you that?"

"Precisely," he snickered.

She didn't even want to consider all the reasons behind this, but she needed more information. "So you need my help," she started falteringly, "but you haven't discussed the most important part: what it is that I'll have to do, and what my...magic has to do with it."

Rumplestiltskin cocked his head, pausing before he waved a hand toward a set of flattened rocks nearby. "Before I begin the storytelling, tell me: how much do you know about one Captain Hook?"

* * *

Emma rubbed her temples wearily; though she was curious on that point, it would be wise not to ask about what had happened to Milah in the end. "He stole your wife, you took his hand, he tried to kill you with the Dark One's dagger―"

"And he would have succeeded," he rasped out, "if not for Belle."

"Ah," she nodded astutely. "Your new love ― I've heard she's very pretty and all too compassionate..."

"Leave her out of this," he snapped. "The point is that when I lay there dying as _Hook_," he spat out venomously, "started to transform into the Dark One, Belle's kiss saved my life and altered the transformation. Obviously, I didn't die ― but he lived. However, the magic of True Love halted the extent of my former powers, turning Hook into one who is cursed. The melding of dark and light magic fashioned a monster...

"He is confined to a virtual 'limbo' from which he can never escape, and although he is now magical, his powers are restricted to the boundaries of his sanctuary. He is doomed to crave love but never find it ― to feel powerful but to be helpless because he will always be chained to loneliness. He has become an enchanter who has breached the impossible: to possess power vanquished by love, which is in itself a very real, living curse because his inner self will always be in conflict with the shadow of the Dark One, the act of murdering me too dark a crime to be forgiven by selfless love. He has no morals."

"But he only _attempted_ to kill you―"

"And he _failed_ only because of Belle. Without her, I would be ten feet in the ground and Hook would be the new Dark One."

Emma bit her tongue, confused. "What does this have to do with Baelfire running away?"

He looked down, appearing to be ashamed. It was strange to see the man who had been so careless with people's lives suddenly caring about even one. "I drove Bae away...my lust for control repulsed him. He went to a Land Without Magic, offering that I accompany him ― but I didn't. I broke our deal to go together. Since then, I have been searching for him for centuries, only to discover that he returned from Neverland with Hook, calling himself Neal. That day when Hook found my dagger and plunged it into my chest was the last time I ever saw my son. All these years, he has stayed with _him_."

"What?" She gripped the tip of her boot tighter, shifting her position. "Bae ― Neal ― was drawn into this mess? How? I thought you said Hook was cursed to be alone―"

"Oh, he is. But you see ― it seemed my boy had grown to love him during his stay in Neverland, that he saw Hook as a _father_," he uttered icily. "And apparently, only one whose heart is pure and filled with love can enter into Hook's domain."

She scoffed. "And I come into this...where?"

"I'm disappointed in you yet again,_ Swan_." He glazed her childhood nickname with the tinge of disgust. "Being the offspring of True Love, you can penetrate the barrier and save Bae from _his_ clutches. Your abilities are infinitely superior to anything Hook can throw at you ― but beware. When within his realm, you are still in his reach. Any spells he casts are long-lasting."

She gave him a wry half-smile, trying to ignore the sickening twists in the pit of her stomach. "From what you said, it sounds like Neal is happy with Hook. Why would he want to be rescued?"

"_No..._it_ cannot _be," he snarled. "He _must_ be influenced by the curse. From what I've learned of its effects, it can dig into your memory and make you forget those whom you've loved. Anyone who enters its influence can be affected ― only someone with magic, like yourself, can withstand its pull."

Blinking as if after waking from a dazed sleep, Emma rose to her feet, exasperated by Rumplestiltskin's persistence. "No dragons, no ogres, no witches ― just a former pirate who has one hand, is confined to one place, and has limited magic. How is he such a threat and such a challenge?"

He smiled grimly in return. "Don't underestimate Hook like I did, Princess ― he waited over 300 years to have revenge against me. His feelings for Milah turned into a poisonous obsession that took over his existence, channeling only hatred ― hatred stronger than my own when I was the Dark One, my emotions strengthened and my loathing intensified. All that ― before he was further corrupted by dark magic. Just imagine his disposition now."

"But he's _your_ sworn enemy ― why should I make him mine by running into his home and dragging away the only company he has left?"

He rolled his eyes childishly. "You're not going to barge in and make an entrance like that. No, I have something better in mind..."

* * *

Emma glared distastefully at the sky blue gown Rumplestiltskin had insisted she wear in place of her ordinary shirt and pants, which had disappeared. Her weapons had been hidden away in her leather bag, so she couldn't exactly pull them out stealthily and threaten him at knifepoint to give her back her real clothes. "Is there a particular reason why I'm dressed up for a ball? I'm supposed to earn his trust, not..._seduce_ him!"

"Camouflage, dearie," he replied wearily. "If you show up in that outfit of yours, complete with weapons, he'll send you _flying_ back home. Got it?"

"Because arriving in puffed sleeves and a ridiculous bodice is much smarter," she mumbled under her breath.

Rumplestiltskin crossed his arms, tapping his foot impatiently. "Now, since we've successfully argued about your apparel, are there any last requests, pleas...questions?"

Emma ran a hand through her hair anxiously. "What about me?" When he peered at her inquiringly, she gestured towards herself. "What do I gain from this?"

"You get your adventure, your quest," he immediately clarified, "and I get my son."

She pursed her lips, not satisfied with that answer. "No, that's not good enough. If I do this for you...if I retrieve Neal...I get a favor."

He scowled. "Aren't you forgetting something, Princess? I no longer have magic ― I cannot do anything―"

"A favor. Or I'm walking down the road August took and I'm not looking back."

He hesitated, contemplating her demand, before extending his hand to her. "Deal."

* * *

**A/N: And here we go. First part out of a total of three. The next chapter will be longer. Prepare for dark!Hook.**

**A special thank you to **_**Lollipopswilltakeover**_**, who got me talking and meditating again on the awesome collection of "modern" fairy tales that is "The Outspoken Princess and the Gentle Knight," and to **_**PrideandProzac**_**, who always lifts my spirits by encouraging my imagination ― your support of my writing is amazing!**

**Oh, and now I'm on Tumblr. Find me? :)**


	2. Part II - The Reckoning

**A/N: Concerning any worries about dark!Hook: just remember that this story is rated T. Deep breaths, now ― he is dark, but not insanely so. Light is warring with dark, and what seems complex is truly simple. Hook's darkness will manifest itself in a different way...**

**FYI: To see the graphics for this fic, visit my Tumblr page.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

PART TWO: THE RECKONING

* * *

Her imagination had envisioned many possibilities of what the abode of an evil enchanter would look like, but none prepared her for the quaint, ivy-covered cottage lying at the bottom of the hill.

Rumplestiltskin was long gone, claiming that his presence would be immediately recognized by Hook if he even set one toe near his territory. _Men and their egos_, Emma mused before stepping through the ticklish strands of the weeping willow tree she had been standing under. The last Dark One was clearly afraid of his rival, and his advice during their joint trek down the path was still resonating in her head.

_Appearances can be very deceptive, so keep in mind our plan. Never forget what you have come to do, or Hook's darkness will devour you. _

But where was the darkness, when there was only the brightest light here?

As she trudged between thickly intertwined trees, shrubs, and rocks, Emma recalled the tingling feeling that had raced through her body when she had crossed the invisible barrier. There was no sign of any inhabitants for miles around, the wilderness untouched by the outside world. However, the moment her feet had stepped daintily through a clustered ring of forget-me-nots, a fierce wind had whipped across her face, rustling her skirt and entangling her hair. But when she looked up an instant later, the branches were completely still, the area motionless.

Inside was the opposite: her pulse had quickened and her entire being felt warmth, banishing her chills and her anxiety. Her only other comfort was that time supposedly stood still here: when she did leave for home (she wasn't even going to think of another outcome), it would be as if she had disappeared for only three days. Apparently, magic worked in threes, but she still didn't know what to expect.

Of everything she was anticipating and dreading, the continuous silence surrounding her was highly disturbing. There was no sound of wildlife at all ― no birds chirping, no bees buzzing during their search for pollen, no forest animals in sight. This new world she had entered was alive, but it had the air of death. Or maybe she was just being too pessimistic. _Damn Rumplestiltskin for talking her into this insanity..._

"What are you doing here?"

The new heat that rushed through her veins was certainly expected, but the frigid state of her limbs was not. The weight of her quest, of the deal she needed to fulfill, came crashing hard onto her shoulders, and the rich, melodious voice echoing through her ears was a deadly siren come to haunt her senses, to drag her down to task and lure her to failure. Physically, it was distinctly masculine, which brought to mind one question: _Hook or Neal?_

"Lass, I'd suggest that if you want to leave from here alive, it's in your best interests to answer the bloody question," he commanded harshly.

She couldn't breathe. She was wrong ― this was all wrong. She wasn't the one meant to do this ― that imp had been mistaken. Greatly mistaken. That, or his seer skills were extremely rusty.

Slowly turning around, Emma faced her interrogator with as much resolve and courage as she could muster. God help her if she said something foolish now...

When air finally met her lungs, it immediately escaped her mouth in the form of a gasp. If the cozy cottage was any indication of the sheer contrast between her presumptions and reality, she surely had not visualized Hook correctly either.

In her mind's eye, the pirate captain was a cringing, decrepit nincompoop who had been involved with the wrong woman and was paying with beyond a lifetime of punishment for simply being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Sympathy for his fate was present, but it was so petulant and small in comparison to the countless crimes Rumplestiltskin had enumerated against the man that she didn't know what to believe.

Obviously, the Dark One's wife had had good taste and a capacity for malice.

To say that the man ― monster? ― in front of her was attractive was a painful understatement. With acutely toned features and a gaze as overwhelming as the ocean waves, Hook's physique was yet another point in fact that decried whatever Emma had imagined. He was a true diamond in the rough, looking like a finely carved statue awakened to be a living masterpiece ― with the exception of his hook for a left hand, of course. Magic couldn't change everything, it seemed.

Then the pirate's lips were stretched by a prominent smirk, allowing her to gain hold of her composure again. He knew that she was staring and seemed to savor it.

Crossing her arms over her chest, she shifted from one foot to the other self-consciously. "I'd like to work for you," she began, pausing when his sinister laughter caused ripples of shame and ridicule to reach her.

"Do you know who I am, love?" he eventually retorted.

Emma chewed her bottom lip worriedly ― this was the tricky part, to not reveal how much she knew about him. "You're the enchanter who lives in these woods."

He clicked his tongue in amusement. "If you are aware of that, why would you pose such a request?" His eyes darkened. "Unless there was something you..._wanted_ from me in exchange?"

Strengthening her stance, she glared at him defiantly. "I'm here to make a deal with you."

His ears perked up from interest, his eyebrows raised as well. "What kind of deal, darling?" he replied in a seductive tone, glancing at her form pointedly.

Emma rolled her eyes, mentally rebuking herself for wearing the curvaceous dress ― though she had a feeling her clothing actually didn't make any difference. Cursed or not, the pirate was not gone from Hook in any manner.

Slowly, she dared to come closer, noting his elegant, tailored attire and clean shaven face ― well, he certainly didn't look like he had been described, daring leather, eyeliner, and trimmed stubble out of sight. _More of a prince than a pirate, enchanting rather than an enchanter._ But he had not aged a day, proving that what Rumplestiltskin had noted about the lack of time was absolutely true. Hook appeared to be young ― little more than ten years her senior ― but then again...his age showed, in more ways than one. He looked innocent, boyish even...but the darkness was still there, in his eyes.

"Three tests," she stated clearly, willing herself to be firm, "in exchange for three rewards. _Magical_ rewards."

"Ah, so that's your game, is it?" he drawled, still scrutinizing her. "You do know that you have to actually pass each test to receive the rewards, right?"

He was treating her like she was an ignorant child, and she didn't like it. "I was told," she said through gritted teeth, "that you enjoy a challenge ― but I do understand if you're unwilling or too afraid―"

In mere seconds his hook was by her neck, his mouth too close to her skin. As handsome as he was, Emma was terrified of the fire burning in Hook's eyes, the unseen power in his movements.

"For starters, lass," he hissed icily, "you would do well not to taunt me. A man who doesn't fight for what he wants deserves what he gets, and no one can accuse me of being a _coward_." He roughly gripped her jaw with his hand. "The imbeciles who do find out very quickly what happens to those who try my patience. Savvy?"

She nodded carefully, letting out a sigh of relief when he stepped back. He was still too near her body for comfort, but she could handle him at this distance. _Do not let him find out you have magic, or you will surely die._

Biting her tongue, she watched as he eyed her expression, searching for truth. She stared back at him just as fiercely, pursing her lips and lifting her chin defiantly. This was her adventure and she was going to live through it, and no man nicknamed Captain Hook was going to stop her.

All she could see was blue and green until he was pacing some distance away, deep in thought. "If I agree," he offered abruptly, swaggering towards her, "I will have certain...conditions."

"_Conditions?"_

A wicked grin was now on his lips. "Indeed. You see, my dear innocent," he whispered huskily into her ear, "I don't trust you. But your presence here intrigues me, especially the fact that you managed to find me in the first place. Someone must have informed you of my whereabouts, which means you have a definite purpose. I want to discover what that really is ― and in the meantime, you can entertain me by being my _guest_." His tongue trilled the word as if it were both delicious and sinful, which triggered rapid unease in Emma.

_This poor beginning did not bode a good ending._

"What's your name, lass?"

She blinked, observing how he strode forward, his boots firmly chafing the dust.

"Emma. Emma _Swan_."

* * *

She should have known from the moment she entered Hook's house that this would be no ordinary quest. The mariner décor was outlandish, the environment too homey to be credible. Its residents were another story. Light and dark, good and evil. Opposites lived in pairs, apparently.

And a part of one of those pairs was the sandy-haired man who claimed to be Neal.

Bae didn't have that much of Rumplestiltskin or Milah in him. In fact, he had a look all his own, that of a wanderer and a refugee, someone who couldn't wipe away the misery of his past memories even if he wanted to. However, the aura of despondence was belied by the wide grin on his face when he mock saluted Hook as they were heading inside.

"Nice day, isn't it?" he hummed happily, ignoring Emma completely on his way out into the sunshine.

When Hook closed the door behind him, she began to question what she was doing here. The son of the Dark One _was_ content in his life, like she had pointed out before. There was no need to do this...no, she could still back out now―

"Well, Swan?" Hook beckoned, his half-smile eerie. "Coming or going?"

* * *

_A dark haired woman with an unpleasant face, her outward beauty marred by her hatred for her cowardly husband. A roguish pirate sailing across the sea, passionate about his ship and his thirst for adventure. A little boy crying for his mother in the middle of the night..._

"_You took away my love, my happiness..."_

_A flash of red and then a brief crumbling as the woman's heart is literally crushed into dust, the pirate screaming as his hand is severed from his left arm. A cackle that could only belong to the Dark One before all vanishes, replaced by more memories..._

_Warm kisses, loud guilt, horrible desire. Then the burning begins, a torturous cycle of damning regrets and pain._

_She squirms, whimpering. It is too much..._

_Then she sees two stunning blue eyes, a beautiful face that is twisted in agony as his hand reaches for her. He is pleading with her, begging her for something she cannot hear. She cannot understand why he leans forward, why his lips brush against hers with such longing that she is left breathless. Then his countenance transforms into a beast-like mask, a grotesque creation that conjures all her old nightmares of monsters come to ravage her. She is repulsed and frightened ― but by what she cannot see, not by the inevitable._

"_Milah..." He is weeping now and the image is fading into white and black and red..._

_A dark figure clambers into her bedroom and begins to disrobe her as well as himself, her desperate pleas falling on deaf ears as he drags her towards him and runs his hands along her skin, his mouth descending on hers..._

_And then she's running through Hook's house, already familiar as she searches for what she knows not. When she realizes she's alone, she rushes to the edge of the woods, shouting for her parents. _

_She cannot get out. The barrier won't let her go free. Every time she pushes, it pulls._

_Her heart restricts and clenches violently at her mind's conclusion: she is forced to stay here for the rest of eternity._

* * *

Nearly jumping out of her bed, her bare feet hit the floor as she raced to the door of her room, throwing it open. She didn't care what she agreed to. She couldn't. She _wouldn't_.

Barely registering that she was wearing a thin slip of a nightgown, that she was racing through cursed land under Captain Hook's inspection, and that she had promised Rumplestiltskin that she would not run away, Emma practically streaked along the same path she had taken in the daylight, the one that would bring her home.

When she attempted to cross the same boundary of flowers, all encased by moonlight, her body felt like it was being slammed against an invisible wall, the very place she had walked along this afternoon now unapproachable.

She couldn't get out ― _just like in her dream_. And now her life was a veritable, very real nightmare.

Reason turned into frenzy, her fists seemingly pounding on air as she sunk to the ground, tears of anger and fear rolling down her cheeks. Rumplestiltskin had failed to note that leaving was just as difficult as entering ― and worst of all, her parents wouldn't even set out to look for her, because her absence was always be the duration of three days no matter how much time she spent here. They wouldn't have any idea that their only daughter was imprisoned in a cursed existence only several miles from the castle grounds.

Emma staggered backwards, rolling over the ground on her side as anxiety took control. Some savior she was, breaking down at the first obstacle. Where was her strength, her determination? Why did she feel so drained, like every intrinsic part of her was slipping away? How the heck was she going to complete her quest?

Her erratic breathing had quieted, her sobs hushed into softened crying. It was at times like these, when she felt the most helpless, her vulnerability exposed like a gaping wound, that she wanted her mother...

Soft arms encircling her as she was rocked to sleep, Snow's beautiful voice coaxing the night's demons to depart like she had done since Emma was a baby. Her father's gentleness and his masterly storytelling as he read by the light of single candle from the magical book that had belonged to their family for generations. All of her childhood memories were precious beyond measure, but why she was recalling them during this moment in time was a mystery.

Her eyes fluttering closed while whispers of sleep overcame her, she barely sensed two strong arms wrapping themselves around her, lifting her up and settling her limbs carefully until she was flying, carried away by a strange guardian angel into the safety of warmth and walls...

* * *

Her face was most certainly a deep shade of pink when she approached Hook the next morning. Having woken up comfortable and covered up to her neck in her new bed, Emma had wondered if everything from last night was a twisted fantasy.

"Um..." She cleared her throat uneasily. "I need...your help."

"Oh?" Hook was again impeccably dressed, his dark blue jacket contrasting nicely with the ruffled white shirt underneath, a red and black scarf tied around his neck. Most discernible were the black leather pants he sported, a definite connection to his days as a pirate in addition to his unusual black boots.

Drawing the edges of her bathrobe closer, she could only blush and peer at the floor.

"What you are currently exhibiting is not 'appropriate'?"

She only glowered at him in reply.

A ghost of a mischievous smirk appeared before he waved his hand, purplish crimson smoke enveloping her skin until she felt the rustle of fabric against it. Her heart nearly stopped when she realized what she was wearing.

It was either a figment of an overactive imagination or the most welcome vision she had ever seen. Every garment was to her taste, from the demurely feminine boots on her feet to the daring red corset hiding an incredibly soft black silk shirt, its long sleeves extending beyond her wrists in an exquisitely pleasing, medieval fashion. Best of all, no dress was present, fitting breeches in its place.

She shyly glanced up at him, not surprised to have caught him appraising his work more acutely than she. "How...how did you know?"

He raised a brow nonchalantly, a gesture that made him look very boyish indeed. "You're something of an open book, Swan ― and I'm always a gentleman." A guarded half-smile later, he uttered absently, "Besides, I like the view, and you match the furnishments quite nicely."

With a loud scoff, Emma turned out of the dining room on her heel, exasperated at how the smallest sliver of caring had been snuffed out by his cold, impersonal remark. She had had a feeling that getting along with a more than three-hundred-year-old caretaker ― and a magical one, at that ― would be worrisome, but now that premonition was two-fold, with an oncoming presumption that this quest was far from easy, dragons or not. If she didn't know what she was fighting, how could she hope to win?

* * *

The plan of action was very straightforward, really: take the tests, get the rewards, and get the hell out with Bae intact. And there were already complications with all three steps.

Hook was very reluctant to do anything, barely interacting with her as life went on in seclusion, as tiring and enticing as Neverland itself. How ironic, that the very man who had made that forbidding place infamous was now subjected to a far inferior version of it. Forever. Still, he didn't have to be procrastinating so evidently, a fact that was infuriating Emma every extra day she had to spend here. By sunlight, Hook was taciturn and brooding, delivering enigmatic comments; by night, he vanished, nowhere to be seen throughout the cottage.

It wasn't as if she was complaining about the accommodations. Her room ― well, the room Hook had given her ― was as lavish as her own back home, but not to the point of gaudiness. On the contrary, the designs were artful and classy, much like the rest of the interior. As for mealtime and bath time, both were unnecessary in a land where time did not exist, but Hook only gave her a meaningful leer before silently fulfilling her requests for a familiar routine that eased her burning nostalgia. Oddly enough, he gave her anything she asked for, without question or complaint...

No, the problem was that since she couldn't exactly prepare for whatever Hook was scheming, days and nights were filled with restless ennui, her limbs aching to run, her mind wanting to take flight. Nightmares plagued her sleep, blood-red and deepest black foreshadowing memories that were not hers, glimpses of unspeakable things making her blood simmer and her skin flush. Then she would awaken, her breathing ragged and uneven while her defenseless body regained some semblance of normalcy.

She would encounter those striking blue eyes on her way down to breakfast, following her every move as she went outside to find some consolation in the nature she loved so much. It was here, under trees and open sky, surrounded by kindly flowers and the beauty that can never replicated, that she found some measure of peace.

Lying back into the swaying grass, Emma pondered Neal's erratic behavior, the way he ignored her presence and acted as if she didn't exist, his attention directed to that ridiculous little garden he tended ceaselessly. It would be difficult to convince him to leave his "paradise" if he was unwilling ― she couldn't just tie him up and drag him out. Rumplestiltskin had said that all must be done voluntarily...he had specially noted that but had passed by that helpful minder that she couldn't make an exit in the first place.

The combination of her own magic and Hook's could possibly get her through the barrier, if the magical rewards she had to obtain were any indication. But what if she made a break for it and all failed? The consequences of that would be very dire indeed.

She was so absorbed in her endless speculation that she didn't noticed the soft nose grazing her arm. "Why, hello!" she grinned, tentatively reaching out to pet the soft brown rabbit who was shyly nosing her. Its eyes were fixated on her face, its whiskers shuddering slightly when she slowly pet its back, tenderly touching its long ears as well. This was the first animal she had seen since entering Hook's dominion. Hah, it was some dominion when there were only two inhabitants to rule over. Well, three ― one who would be dominated by none.

When the shade drifted and she was exposed to the sun, Emma threw away caution and gathered the friendly creature into her arms, cradling it by her bosom as she would a baby. It was too bad that she was an only child, that her parents couldn't have had another...a boy, perhaps, who would bring joy to their hearts and free Emma from her future duties as queen. A soft recollection of her mother and father embracing on their wedding anniversary caused her to sniffle, a stray tear falling down.

Staring up at her with large brown eyes, the rabbit nestled against her chest and Emma had the strangest urge to talk aloud. She would go mad if she didn't speak to someone soon ― and better it was to a charming forest inhabitant than those two oddities in the cottage, however handsome one of them was. Gradually, her tongue loosened and she was recalling her fondest childhood memories, happily lost in a bittersweet reverie. As long as she didn't forget what was good and right, the twisted evil here could not harm her.

* * *

According to her calculations, it was after a week of relentless snuggling and careless monologue that the rabbit mysteriously disappeared, her sole companion taking away her sense of relief along with its comfort. True, he lived in the forest and belonged there...he wasn't a pet...but she still missed her bunny, faithful and true as he waited for her under the same tree every morning she had sought him out. She had even thought out a name for him ― Peter.

Hook must have broken out of his façade long enough to notice her crestfallen expression while he created dinner for her, because he dared to inquire about it. When she refused to answer, afraid that the pressure inside would snap, he drew nearer, almost until he was kneeling in front of her, with a look of concern so unsettling and foreign on his countenance that she flinched.

"Darling, tell me what's―"

"I'm _not_ your darling." Her voice was a mere hiss, trying to lash out at him as cruelly as possible. She could feel the darkness latching onto her heart, digging into her soul. She wanted to hurt him, and she couldn't explain why. The tension was about to snap, her frustration pushing her to the edge.

He was obviously taken aback by her vicious response, but she didn't have to pretend to care about his reactions. "Do you think I care about your 'conditions,' that I don't question your motives for a second? To hell with that. You toy with me, like a cat does a mouse, pretending to be a person and then acting like a block of ice. You're playing at some game I don't understand, you're waiting for something inscrutable ― and I don't have the energy to be going along with this."

Leaving the room in a huff, she barely glanced back at his stunned face as she headed for the door. Tonight, she would be lulled into her dreams by starlight and moonlight.

* * *

As she had suspected, no one came to bring her back. Instead, the first thing she saw when she opened her eyes was a wide-eyed fawn at her side, its head resting between its front legs. Even during her dreams last night, she had steeled herself from forming any more attachments, from caring too much. But when the fawn warily raised itself up on wobbly legs, it bravely watched Emma's hand approach its head and then leaned into her caress.

She sighed as the fawn clambered over to her, nuzzling her neck. There was no doe in sight, so it appeared that the fawn was either an orphan or a figment of magic. When it licked her palm, Emma smiled to herself. Having another friend wouldn't be too bad in the midst of all this insanity.

* * *

The same pattern repeated: the fawn followed in the prints of the rabbit after a week of acquaintance, leaving Emma heartbroken; Neal was entirely too happy-go-lucky, completely unresponsive; and Hook continued to avoid her at night and observe her during the day. Ever since her outburst, he would barely meet her gaze in the morning when she came for breakfast, shuffling off as soon as he had the chance. And then she was alone again, left to her own devices. Sometimes she'd explore the house; however, most of the time, when she wasn't reading or hiking outside, she'd ascend to her room and close the door, tracing shapes in the ceiling until she'd fall asleep, protected from dreaming when daylight shone down on her.

She pondered what Hook really did all day long ― though the sun and the moon were most likely an illusion fashioned by magic. Still, she tried to picture him alone ― standing by the window at sunrise, sitting in his chambers at sunset, reclining on the veranda which was never used, peeking through the grotto of trees arching over the backdoor. For all that Rumplestiltskin had said about the father-son love between Hook and Bae, "Neal" was in his own world; she had not witnessed any real conversation between him and Hook yet...

Compassion was hitting her hard, barely keeping any room for contemplation on the sins of the enchanter. Hook was cut off from the entire world, shackled to an existence which held nothing but sorrow. There wasn't a single living creature, even animal, to keep him company...except for the moment she had marched into his life.

If she remembered correctly, Captain Hook was once called Killian Jones, an intrepid adventurer who feared nothing and no one. The instant he had crossed the Dark One's path was his doom, and adulterer or not, he had not deserved to lose his hand for that. He had not deserved this ― an empty hell where no one cared, no one visited, no one saw him. With his powers, he could have all he desired ― all but what he truly wanted. He could not create a person. He could not create a friend, and he was unable to dispel the loneliness that was part of his curse.

Sadly, the one steadfast occurrence of her stay so far was the constant misery etched into Hook's features.

* * *

_Light to the day,_

_Darkness to the night,_

_Until True Love breaks your bonds,_

_You will suffer without respite._

_She could hear the words recited over and over again like a worn tune. It was painful to listen to, to hear such pain vocalized, but the agonized cries increasing in volume were driving her curiosity, igniting it. Who was it?_

_She was walking toward a wall, white but shifting into a hue of midnight black. And at the bottom was the figure of a dark-haired little boy, his hands curled into fists which covered his eyes. He was weeping piteously, his screams piercing her ears like arrows. _

_When she was standing all but two feet in front of him, he peered up at her, tears outlining the curves of his cheeks. "What's wrong?" she whispered consolingly, kneeling down to wipe away the wetness from his face and gently ruffle his locks with her fingers._

_He bit his bottom lip, squinting at his hands. "No one wants me. I'm all alone."_

"_What makes you think that?"_

_The child swallowed hard, his eyelashes fluttering. "Mama and Papa abandoned me, so why would anyone else want me?"_

_Her heart was bleeding inwardly at his words. "Well, what if I said _I_ want you?" she offered with a warm smile, watching him frown in suspicion._

"_Why would you want me? I'm...I'm...un-love-able."_

"_No, you're not," she laughed gently, opening her arms to him. Hesitating, he scrutinized her face closely before a small grin crossed his lips and he moved forward. Rocking him softly in her arms, she felt her wounded heart mend when he turned his head and kissed her on the cheek._

"_Stay with me forever?" he murmured against her skin._

_She nodded instinctively, embracing him tightly. "Yes. But do you want _me_?"_

_He smiled shyly. "I do. And I want to love you too."_

_When her eyelids obeyed and opened again, it was to see two bright, cerulean eyes staring right back at her, the color of his irises deftly interchanging between startling blue and deep brown. She was shocked and completely bewildered, but the adoring love that radiated from the little boy in her arms was overwhelming her, chasing away recognition._

_She was at the tip of a quandary, but she didn't know how to dive in deeper, to unravel the maze._

_As the colors faded and she slipped out of unconsciousness, the sure sign she was waking, a voice full of yearning kept echoing in her mind. _

"_Emma, love me...please, please love me..."_

* * *

"So..._Neal_," Emma started cautiously, "how long have you been with Hook?" Approaching the Dark One's son had been easy, but talking to him was difficult when he absolutely refused to carry on a decent conversation. In order to succeed at her quest, she had to take the initiative, not sit around and moon over dreams.

With an abrupt lift of his head, he was evidently surprised she had addressed him at all. "Why would you ask a question like that?"

She shrugged. "Just curious."

He scratched his scalp, pursing his lips. "Well, a long while, I guess. I met Hook in Neverland; we lived on the _Jolly Roger_ for hundreds of years before returning to the Enchanted Forest ― I was just a boy then ― where we skulked about for ten years or so."

She sketched circles in the grass, glancing at Neal occasionally as he continued to hoe the dirt, oblivious to any consternation his answer could have elicited.

"And what about your parents? What about going home?"

His back was facing her now. "Here is home. I've been here for longer than I can remember."

Something about his reply was off ― it wasn't so much his words as it was his tone, the hesitation in his voice. She cleared her throat, changing tactics. "I'm shocked you have to weed your garden in the first place ― everything looks so...perfect."

He gave her a puzzled look before his eyes filled with sudden knowledge. "It's not," he mumbled, sounding irritated.

She hopped to her feet, leaning in. "Oh? And why is that? Don't you have anyone to care for you?"

"Why are you interrogating me?"

Bristling, she shouted back, "I'm not! Why are you being so defensive?"

Neal growled, raising his hand as if to swat at her. "How about a fair trade? You answer my questions, I'll answer yours."

"A question for a question, answer for an answer?" She pretended to mull over the idea. "Very well. What's yours?"

He grimaced. "Why are you here, really?"

Damn. Of course, that would be his first. Time for storytelling.

Putting on her most charming, winsome smile, Emma strolled by him. Hopefully all those novels she had read were correct about the art of seduction, or she was in trouble. "I'm searching for a prince, because I want to be a princess," she murmured in a low voice, hoping her lie would hold firm.

Neal laughed bitterly. "And instead, you stepped into the lair of an enchanter? Sorry to disappoint you, _princess_, but there are no princes here."

She cocked her head, licking her lips sensually. "Hmm...that's true...but I did find you, and though you're not much of a prince, you're the best I can do."

"Uh...thanks?" When her grin widened in mock appreciation, something flashed in his darkened gaze ― some dangerous, compelling emotion. It wasn't anger.

On seeing him drop the hoe and move toward her, Emma began to feel unusually frightened, more than she had been of Hook, initially. Maybe it was just her instincts speaking, but... Stepping away, she tried to confidently exit the garden, heading to the house as briskly as possible.

Even after she had shut the door, she could still sense Neal's eyes burning into her retreating form, incited by something unfamiliar. Nevertheless, though the question and answer session was over for now, she could guarantee one thing for certain: Neal would not be ignoring her anymore.

Judging from his expression, the vices of the world had just come out to play.

* * *

It was worse than she had predicted, unfortunately. Neal was now pursuing her like a moth did a flame, trailing after her like a lost puppy. A kind of cute puppy, with hungry brown eyes and a salivating tongue. Suddenly, she was longing for Hook's cool demeanor, his indifference. And then she knew what she had to do.

During their usual routine of dinner, Emma didn't let Hook escape the room like he normally did, with downcast eyes and a stormy pout.

"Killian..." His entire figure stiffened at the sound of his true name.

"How do you know my name?" he spat out. When she didn't reply, he had her pinned to the wall so quickly that she didn't even have time to blink twice, that she forgot what she was going to ask him.

"How?" he demanded harshly, his hook pressing into the soft skin of her neck. Emma ordered herself not to squirm ― resistance would only make this more violent than it already was.

"I've heard the stories," she muttered after a moment of silence, his stony gaze never leaving her face.

"Oh, did you, now? Since you're so smart, do you know the _whole_ bloody story, Emma? The parts that some people 'accidentally' omit?" His voice dropped to a pain-filled whisper. "How the Dark One refused to fight for Milah, how he betrayed his own son, how he took my hand and my love from me in one breath because of his cowardice?

"How I have nothing to live for but I am forced to go on with this? This damned..._magic_. I _hate_ it ― I've always hated it... And to have it within me like a seething demon waiting to emerge..."

Vengeance thrived in the darkness, and it was consuming him rapidly, the captivating enchanter turning into a creature of the night before her very sight. She had to intervene ― to give him light when he was only seeing the dark. He was confusing and exasperating, generous and charming. She didn't know what to make of him. No, she didn't _know_ him. And yet, she felt that she did ― that they had more in common than was foreseeable. He was...an enigma, one she wanted to solve. To understand.

Heart beating fiercely, blood racing, she shocked herself by doing the very thing she had promised herself she would never do, especially not with a man like Hook: she leaned in, touched his cheek, and gently kissed him.

* * *

In retrospect, she still didn't know what had possessed her to do such a thing. She had ardently believed that a gesture of innocent affection would calm him down, that his hold on her would relax. It didn't. What had been a gentle brush of her lips against his was now a fiery, all-consuming kiss, one that was devouring her resolve to resist. His body was pressing on hers, his desirous response bewildering her further. He had never shown even the slightest interest―

Emma gasped as his hand and hook wandered, his mouth joining them. She was clinging desperately to his hair, stunned by the way her reluctance was shifting into pure want. _He_ was doing this to her...his boldness was triggering her darkest wishes, encouraging her secret fantasies. Making her need him, as she had never needed anyone else. She started imagining how far he would go with this, if he would...

While the scenery around them changed and she faintly acknowledged that they must be in his bedroom, that he had transported them there, Emma scrambled to grasp at whatever of her reason remained under the influence of this new, blinding passion. She wasn't here to be with Hook in any kind of relationship ― no, she was here to free Neal, to complete her side of the deal, to conquer her quest. Not to be subdued by a breathtaking disaster of a man, who was staring at her with wanton hunger and a devilish smirk. A man wholly broken, beautiful, and mesmerizing, who had shared her first kiss.

As he turned to regard his regal bed, she realized what he truly wanted.

His breaths were haggard, his pupils dilated heavily. He was licking his swollen lips, his black shirt unbuttoned, his vest gone. Emma looked down to see her own blouse open fully, her undergarments peeking through temptingly. Had it truly progressed to that stage?

When Hook took off the disheveled shirt, revealing the muscular expanse of bare chest and shoulders underneath, she bit her bottom lip nervously, pivoting on the balls of her feet until her back was facing him. She was under his roof, under his power, so she could deny him nothing. But this...this she had to deny. Deny him...and herself.

"Killian..." she pleaded, hoping he would stop his advances.

Then he stood in front of her again, and his arms wrapped themselves around her waist, his nose nudging hers until he found her mouth a second time, his hand reaching up to push down the blouse to her waist and untie the laces of her corset. Every caress translated into a branding _you are mine_.

Her search for arguments ended when she found none, and in that insane moment, she was rational once more. She pushed him away, stumbling backwards.

He smoldered at her intently before lifting his hook apologetically. "I can transform it into a hand, if it bothers you ― it will only be a temporary illusion, of course, but a convincing one at that―"

"This has nothing to do with your hook." She forced herself to sound icy and dismissive, ignoring the look of hurt that crossed his face. "This, between you and me," she gestured, "cannot happen. Ever."

Hurt transformed into fury. "Why didn't you tell me that _before_ you kissed me, Emma?" he snarled, his hand clenched into a white-knuckled fist. His hook dissipated, a perfect hand replacing it. _Too perfect._

"You bewitched me," she defended, to which he laughed mirthlessly in reply.

"Did I? Or perhaps you've figured out how magic works here?" He approached her slowly. "Perhaps you've heard more of my story than I give you credit for...the part where magic fused me together, took away my freedom. You see, love...the essence of darkness is literally _living_ here, trapped in this void. Every being who steps through is subjected to its power, and by the time you have the will to run, you have no choice but to stay. Because by then, darkness is in your blood, your mind, your heart...and you need light in all three in order to leave. Which is why even I cannot cross over into the outer world where time exists. My heart is too black, too stained. I don't command the magic ― I _obey_ it."

His false hand brazenly cupped her breast through the fabric of her shift, and she bit back a moan. "Why not just give in, darling? You have nothing to lose ― and everything to gain. I promise that I will please you, in _every_ way. We can survive this hell together: I will give you whatever you desire, myself included, and in exchange, you will yield to me. Abandon this foolish quest... Instead, do what you want to do ― here, with _me_."

His right hand was mimicking the actions of the other, arousing a fire in the recesses of Emma's stomach. He was seducing her, his husky voice making her muscles tense in anticipation. If she didn't do something ― anything ― she would end up where he wanted her: in his bed.

Tears moistened her flushed cheeks, and she struggled to think of the best memories she had. Her parents teaching her how to ride a horse for the first time. A mother swan and her cygnets rising from the lake in the palace gardens, only to pace in front of her ― the little ones gathering about her feet, while she fed the mother thick pieces of rich brown bread. The love she had always had from her mother and father, from her friends, from her subjects, all giving her strength and comfort and understanding. Not this...not this incomprehensible, shameful lust.

When she opened her eyes, Killian was gazing at her in awe, a steady glow reflecting from his skin. Then she looked downward. No..._she_ was literally glowing, from the inside out. Light was leaking out from the magic she would always carry inside her beating heart. No matter what darkness blocked her path, her love couldn't die. It would always belong to her.

_Love isn't weakness ― it's strength..._

* * *

That night, Emma's nightmares were worse than ever before, a never-ending line of emotions that jabbed at every part of her conscience.

Killian's wounded expression when she immediately ran from him after her luminescent display.

Neal's hidden past, his mixed feelings about what he had abandoned, consciously or not.

Her own longing to be home, away from these newfound feelings that Hook had aroused in her.

For the first time in her life, Emma screamed in her sleep, wishing she had never made a deal with Rumplestiltskin. No quest was worth this: she would have to choose between what she ought to do and what she wanted, a simple dilemma before but a different one now. She had felt so complete in _his_ arms, having recognized that through the haze of whatever sinister spell had been cast in that instant.

And now she still had three tests to endure, all under Killian's inspection, though she personally believed that last night had been the unspoken first.

* * *

**A/N: Next chapter's the last, though I hope you had *coughs* fun with this one. Has anyone guessed how Hook's curse works, when his darkness is most prominent? And what about Emma's dreams...? Merlin fans, you should be seeing the hint here. No worries, though ― everything will be explained in the end. Like I said, things are not as they appear.**

**Anyway...please review!**


	3. Part III - The Choice

**A/N: Yup, this is it ― we've reached the big finale. (Just to be clear, Killian's backstory is the same as in OUAT.) And yeah, the length of this chapter... It got out _a little_ out of control. But when the muse speaks, she speaks. *shrugs***

**Need I say mysteries will be revealed? And as for happy endings...you'll just have to read and see.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

PART THREE: THE CHOICE

* * *

Killian was gone.

After Emma had finally gathered enough courage to leave her chambers the following morning, she had discovered that the cottage was empty. The doors to all the rooms were open, as if flung against the wall by a fierce wind ― and even Killian's bedroom was deserted, as if no one had ever lived there. The remaining silence reminded her of her dreams and her fears, the urge to run stronger than ever. When her leather pack had vanished upon her entering this realm, she had been slightly terrified of proceeding unarmed in enemy territory. Now it was the opposite: she wouldn't be able to bear it if she were abandoned by the one person who had a soul in this cursed land.

Absent-minded as ever, Neal was outside in his garden ― as always ― and when she timidly asked him if he had seen Hook this morning, he shook his head curtly and went back to tending the next row of carrots. _Honestly, what was the point of growing vegetables if you weren't going to eat them?_ Emma thought to herself as she hiked up the hills in her desperate search.

She really didn't get it. Why was she looking for Killian in the first place, after he had tried to...to...to take advantage of her trust? When he was moody and too passionate for his own good, always heeding his impulses and relying too heavily on his instincts? When he was bloody Captain Hook, a bloodthirsty pirate? When he was nothing she was looking for, nothing she should have..._but everything she wanted_.

The sudden surge of longing that filled her senses in that moment enveloped her entire body in a wave of pure, white heat. She was burning...for _him_. Every touch, every look from last night, however brief and short-lived they all were, was tormenting her memory. Killian had been so wrong about the darkness, about the hideousness of his heart: she would not be so drawn to him if it were true. The light in him ― the light that he refused to see, that he kept hidden ― was calling to her own, and she could not believe that he was evil. He was fighting it, always relentlessly battling the darkness within and without; he was true and courageous. When their mouths had greedily joined, she had felt _him_ ― felt his pain, his anger, his worry...and his capacity to love so deeply that the stars themselves could not outshine the strength of his heart, beating so firmly in his chest.

They were neither friends nor lovers, their ignorance and doubts hindering both chances. _But circumstances didn't stop her from wanting them to happen_. In a living netherworld rife with magic, she had found an enchanter who didn't want power but had it regardless and thought it a cruel chain. She had kissed a pirate who was accused of stealing love that had been freely given ― whose only crime was of loving too much, of wanting love too much. How many men were like that, that they would risk their lives for someone out of love?

Honestly, Rumplestiltskin had misjudged Hook out of bitterness, envy, and jealousy.

Again, she concluded that Killian's punishment didn't match his mistakes, that he had been a victim of seeking love, finding love, and losing love. In the end, his life was built on this, and although his love may have been flawed and even ruthless, he still clung to it. It was his faith...and there was no greater one than to believe in love itself.

How would it feel, to be loved like that? Unconditionally, thoroughly, and completely?

She was in the middle of the field right before the cottage when a thick, gray fog seemed to come from nowhere and sweep over it, obscuring her path. Then it descended, reaching her in seconds; it touched her skin, engulfing it like the river did its sandbank.

One moment she was walking on grass ― and the next she was stepping through air, too speechless to yell in protest before all went utterly black, as if day had suddenly turned into night.

* * *

When she smelled the all too familiar scent of burnt candle wicks and something else she couldn't quite place, Emma moaned softly, not wanting any light to pervade the new night and disturb her slumber.

"But I prefer it with the lights on, lass," a sultry voice stated, as if in answer to her unspoken question. The stench of flames eating at the air, accompanied by accumulating light, were what prompted Emma to open her eyes, only to see Killian peering down at her intently. Her head was resting on his lap, and he was clearly amused by her confused reaction to this fact.

Jolting upright, she realized that she had been lying down on straw. _Straw?_ She was in a stable ― an empty stable. _Since when was there a stable here?_

After standing up gracefully, Killian took her hand and hauled her onto her feet, his eyes never leaving her face. She stared back, appraising him like he had her the first day they met. He looked exhausted, as if he hadn't slept in ages...but had he ever slept in this godforsaken place to begin with? And how could his expression be so blank, after all the trauma of last night?

Emma bit her lip, at a loss for what to say to the person she had rejected. "Why ― why am I here?" she managed to blurt out.

He indicated the stalls with his hand. "This is your first test," he said grandly, a hint of sarcasm in his tone. "You do recall our _deal_, do you not?

She glanced around in disbelief. "Mucking out the stables is the test?"

He snickered. "No, darling ― the test has a different objective, you see. It's rather simple: stay the night here, don't try to run, and I'll come for you tomorrow morning. It's almost sunset, so―"

"_Sunset?_" she exclaimed in shock. "But it was just morning when I was...when I tried to..." He was smirking too knowingly at her, so she resigned herself to not finishing her statement or saying anything further.

"Like I was saying," he continued, "the test lasts from sunset to sunrise, and there are no doors, no exits. The goal is to survive, as the darkness will try you hard, and things are never as they appear to be..."

"And I have nothing but my bare hands to help me?" she protested.

"Would it help if you were all bare, love?" he remarked cheekily with a wink. "I certainly wouldn't mind that―"

The glare she gave him elicited pure silence. Clearing his throat, Killian clarified, "There is magic surrounding us, in the very air itself. Whatever you need will manifest itself to you, and should you need my assistance to leave at any time, you can call out my name and I will come."

She harrumphed, feeling insulted. "I'll be fine ― I can handle a challenge."

A warm, sad smile appeared on his lips. "Oh, I know," he murmured quietly, cautiously reaching out to softly stroke her cheek. When he made as if to move away, she leaned into his touch, covering his hand with her own ― an action that visibly shocked him.

"Emma..." His gaze was torn between her eyes and her lips. "You didn't want me...you said you didn't want me..." He was pleading so brokenly that it hurt to witness it. On the other hand, the way he said those words was so familiar...

She pressed a kiss to his palm, watching his eyelids flutter closed. "I _never_ said that, Killian."

A gentle breeze blew over her face, and then her hands were seeking someone who was no longer there, an empty space. _Until tomorrow, dearest_, came a known whisper, the sound carried away by a final burst of wind. And when her heart leaped happily, she _knew_.

Straightening her posture, Emma resolved not to cry. She had no clue what was going to occur next, she was completely undefended, and she was alone. And only time would tell what was in store...

* * *

She must have fallen asleep again, because she was shaken out of her stupor by incessant pounding. At first, she thought that she had a headache and that was the reason for the noise. When the floor shook and the timbers of the roofs literally rattled from what could only be described as the most vicious, fervent chorus of neighing that she had ever heard in her life, Emma reassessed that opinion and jumped to her feet immediately, an uncanny trill of terror coursing through her mind on viewing the scene in front of her.

As far as she had seen, there were no animals here, with the exception of the two she'd befriended. However, here was a herd of horses of all breeds and colors, fillies and mares and stallions and colts racing towards her. Every movement of their flanks was more like gliding than striding, their stature worthy of monarchs and leaders, a magic of nature rather than of any other force. Magnificent steeds, all pawing the ground with their sharp hooves and snorting the air violently.

They looked like they were about to trample her.

Emma was backed against the farthest wall of the stable ― if it was real at all and not just another illusion ― and the tacks and reins, brushes and wide-toothed combs were pinching her shoulders dreadfully. She had always known that horses were as formidable at attack as any other living creature, but for them to advance on her, who had never even approached them...?

Wait ― the test. Rumplestiltskin had said that each test would target her greatest strengths and weaknesses. _You are determined, brave, selfless, and compassionate ― as well as distrusting, doubtful, impulsive, willful, and obstinate. Beware of all these._

Right now, her instincts were telling her to run ― a dangerous impulse that Killian had warned her not to obey, an impulse that fear was solely dictating. And who knew if this was even the test or just a precursor meant to frighten her?

Taking a deep breath, Emma stood motionless before scrutinizing her challenge. They looked quite tempestuous, all anger and fire, but then one of the colts nearly fell as it trod forward and she suddenly noticed more than she had bargained for.

The burrs nestled in the stallions' manes and tails. The dirt and mud encrusted on the coats and legs of of the mares and fillies. The limping foals, all whinnying plaintively as they stepped alongside their mothers. In addition, they all were thin, bones showing through the skin, and their eyes were filled with pain. It was disheartening to see.

Focused on what she knew she had to do, she turned around to grab the items hanging behind her. This was no different from her own experiences at home, when she had to tend to her own steed after long rides and days spent in the grazing fields. Yes, this was exactly the same, and wherever they had come from, these poor equines had been obviously maltreated and malnourished ― which reminded her...

Many hours later, Emma was plopped on the ground, holding out another bucket of oats to the nearest foal. One mare was nuzzling her hair appreciatively, while two fillies were nipping at the ends of her long skirt which had pooled around her feet. The stallions were too busy snuggling with their mates to be bothered with their savior.

While she was quite euphoric, her bodily condition was not as well at the moment. The muscles in her arms were strained and overcome by recurrent spasms, her behind was burning, and her legs were cramping every so often. Washing, brushing, combing, and feeding more than a dozen horses at one time could that to a person ― and it had been no easy task to get the males to cooperate; the females had been decidedly gentler. In comparison, it had been a small mercy that all the supplies and tools she had needed were there and available to her.

She smelled like horse feed, she was bone sore, and she felt exhausted ― but it had been worth it, to see the horses relax and brighten from her ministrations.

Slowly, Emma lowered the bucket down and settled onto her side, sinking into the sweet straw. She didn't any more energy to wait for the test...it would have to wake her up.

Before her eyelids closed against her will, she faintly sensed one of the fillies nestling beside her, its warmth dispelling the cold rushing in from the outside...

* * *

_She was plunging into lukewarm water, rising to meet the surface when she could no longer breathe. Something encircled her waist as she did so, pulling her against something hard, pliant, and tender._

_Oh God._

_Killian was smirking at her indulgently, purposely failing to hide how pleased he was by his mischievous antics. _

"_You rude, unfeeling rascal ― you tipped me out of the boat!" she shrieked in dismay while inspecting her soaked clothes and hair. Firmly placing her hands on his bare chest, she pushed him back, trying to escape his grasp._

"_I thought you promised to go for a swim with me," he pouted, raising a brow in mock despair._

_She snorted, splashing water during her frantic struggling which rained down on her head. "Haha ― well, I lied. I barely agreed to go out on the lake with you in the first place ― and it seems I was right to be so reluctant. You're worth nothing but trouble."_

_When he looked down despondently, she worried that she had truly hurt his feelings. This bubble of caring, of...love... It sprung quickly, making her blood grow hot until she was back within his reach, lifting his chin with her fingers._

"_Killian? Killian...I'm sorry, I didn't mean that... I was just teas―"_

_He cut her off by kissing her passionately, tongues and lips and teeth melding together to create the perfect union. His hands ― his hands? ― were outlining her curves, her flesh trembling and sighing under his touch. He became more insistent the more she responded, her fingers entangled in his wet hair while she pressed further against him, wickedly wishing there were no clothes between them ― just skin..._

"_I think I'm in love with you." She pulled away in surprise, not sure she had really heard him correctly. Did he just―_

"_Emma," he murmured ardently, "I love you. I know ― you don't believe me, because of Milah. Once, she was the love of my life...but she died, and regardless of my desire for revenge, I was forced to move on. I'll never forget her, but...ever since I've met you, you've stirred my heart, made it beat again. It was close to surrendering to the darkness forever...but you stopped the war." _

_Her cheeks were surrounded by his hands, his fingers. "You fierce, beautiful girl ― you affect me like no other. I've never wanted anyone the way I want you ― never felt for anyone what I feel for you. And I would fight worse than Rumplestiltskin if you were ever taken from me."_

_She brushed her lips over his. "But you barely know me, Killian ― this must be a dream, if you're saying such things."_

"_Have you ever been in love, darling?" After she shook her head, he placed searing kisses along her face, her neck, her shoulders. "The heart knows best, and mine knows yours, despite everything. You and I, we understand each other. For after more than three hundred years of dying, I've finally found a reason to live again...and that reason is you."_

* * *

Sitting up and rubbing her eyes, Emma gasped when her blurry vision cleared. The sensation of daylight heating her skin was unexpected ― wasn't she supposed to be in an almost windowless building? But then blades of grass brushed her skin, making her giggle involuntarily, and she finally was awake.

A hundred questions cornered her mind, and she didn't know which one to answer first, if she even could answer any of them. First of all, what the heck had happened to the stable, the horses...? And why was she lying in the middle of the meadow? From her vantage point, she had only to lie down flat on her stomach in order to fully view that grove of bending cypress trees that curved around the back door of the cottage.

Her legs wobbled dangerously as she scrambled to her feet, her head dizzy. In the distance she could see a figure approaching, and according to his height, it wasn't Killian.

It was Neal, and for the first time since she had arrived, he looked anxious.

"Emma? Where the hell have you been?" he shouted, nearly running toward her.

She strode carefully through the foliage, moistened by the morning dew, and reached his side. "I've completed the first of my tests, silly." She had attempted a flirtatious tone, but judging from Neal's expression, she had only worried him further.

He crossed his arms over his chest, clearly disgruntled. "Nothing about this is silly. For the first time in...I don't know how long...Hook has literally disappeared, and you right along with him. For a few hours, I got this horrible idea that I was all alone here."

She bit back a laugh ― she had never seen him act so serious before. He was a little boy again, tired of being left behind. However, the worst thing was that, as much as she pitied him, she couldn't make herself really like him. Oddly enough, though Neal was the purpose of her "mission," she had felt an instant connection to Hook, not the former Dark One's son, right when she had gained access to something even Rumplestiltskin could never touch.

She was at a loss, for more than one reason. Her last dream was more perplexing than the previous ones ― was it a fantasy based on the present, a recollection of the past, or a vision of the future? It was hard to categorize when lately she seemed to be having all of the above.

* * *

Of course he had called for her. Right before sunset, Emma had left a sleeping Neal inside the cottage, compelled to depart because some unnameable thing beckoned to her. She followed its song like one hypnotized, waiting patiently for fog to transport her to her destination like the night before.

Sunset climbed downward, a fissure of crimson and purple, and she was still standing in the same spot. While she reminded herself for the thirty-third time that the deal still stood, that there was no possibility Killian would forget it, she closed her eyes for a moment, worn out by the previous night's activities.

"Missing me, Swan?" The long black leather coat he was sporting was rather impressive: it reached down to his shins and the lapels almost touched his jawline.

She swallowed hard, suddenly not prepared to listen to his verdict. But she had to if the quest was to proceed at all. "As much as is possible," she countered dryly, smirking when he frowned at her vague reply.

After staring at his boots for several awkward minutes, Killian cleared his throat and fixated his gaze on her face. "Shall I tell you the long version or the short version?"

She sighed, exasperated by his penchant for playing games. "Did I succeed or not, Killian?"

His eyes softened on hearing his name pass her lips, and he paced forward until he was standing next to her. "You passed the test, darling ― and now, per our agreement, you can choose a reward."

Right, and now she would never be certain what exactly was the test to begin with. For the matter of their deal, she could not refuse what he asked her to do, and he could not refuse to give her what she asked of him. If either of them broke this "condition"...well, she didn't quite know what would result...

"I want a comb for my hair," she uttered formally, wincing at the tone of her voice. Rumplestiltskin was a creepy little bastard, but these rewards he had _specifically_ told her to ask for were the icing on the cake, so to speak. She couldn't understand why it had to be a comb, but...

"Very well." His expression was blank when he waved his hand and the garish purple smoke encircled the object of her desire, a walnut-oak comb with finely carved teeth and elaborate scroll designs. She could feel it pulse with magic, but the electricity that warmed her fingertips when they met Killian's to take the comb was no less powerful.

Pocketing the item carefully, she waited for him to speak again. Instead, he was staring at her again, watching her every move ― and she was enjoying the pointed attention, the way he was admiring her body. He was so different from all the other men she had met ― so unique ― and she was glad that she had gained his respect.

"Are you ready?" His outstretched hand was so inviting that she accepted without delay. Would he have changed so much as a person if Rumplestiltskin had not cut off his other hand?

Emma hesitated before intertwining their fingers. "Let us go."

* * *

Not lingering as he had done the night before, Killian had left her without another word once she was settled in yet another mysterious building. Only this time, she didn't have to wait long to find out what was on the agenda.

Although her father had always adored dogs, keeping several of them as personal pets and more for the hunt, Emma had never liked their yapping, clinging, or jumping. Like her mother, she preferred cats, which never drooled on her feet and whose independent nature matched her own. Dogs were loud, obnoxious, and too physically demonstrative to be likeable ― which is why she was horrified to see a crowd of them running toward her.

Oh no. She was in a kennel. And those hounds nipping at her heels looked far from friendly.

When faced with growling, snarling canines, you are supposed to stand very still and maintain eye contact ― not run away. The temptation to do the latter was becoming stronger every moment Emma got another glimpse of sharp, snapping white teeth exposed by a feral smile, while she flinched at the repetitive barks biting her poor ears.

"Don't you have any toys you can play with?" she grumbled, lowering herself to the ground. If she was going to be torn to pieces, she might as well be comfortable first. Curiously, the dogs instantly relaxed, sitting down on their haunches and eyeing her quietly.

When the closest one whined, Emma threw her hands in the air. "What, you think you're lonely?" She sighed deeply. "Just seeing all of you reminds me of my dad..."

It was the longest one-sided conversation in history. In addition to capturing the dogs' undivided attention, Emma had uncovered some leather balls in the farthermost corner of the kennel and was throwing them leisurely, laughing when two of the hounds playfully fought over who was going to bring the ball back to her. This was kind of refreshing, actually ― no one demanding anything, no one ordering her about. If only life at the castle could be quite as peaceful.

Quickly tiring, the hounds soon gathered by her and snuggled together, forming a circle of warmth around her. Their steady breathing was the last thing she heard as she drifted off, imagining the sunrise...

* * *

_Quiet woodland creatures of all varieties were there. Bunnies, squirrels, chipmunks, sparrows, deer, wild birds...they were on all sides, some of the braver ones begging to sit on her lap. Like mother, like daughter... _

_Dad always teased Mom when she went for a walk in the forest and a line of animals would trail after her. It was as if animals were intrinsically drawn to both Snow and Emma, trusting them on sight._

_Humming slowly, she was petting each of them, grinning when the fawns ate from her hand. Then she was singing some wordless song, only silenced when two hands rested on her shoulders. "Hello, beautiful," he whispered, gently pulling her hair to the side and planting a kiss on her cheek._

_She was dressed in a lacy white gown that reached her feet, and he was looking very dashing in a colorfully embroidered suit that was imperiously embellished by the long sword hanging from his belt._

_His gloriously bright smile was the adorning finish, far richer and precious than any jewels. With him next to her, she felt like a queen... And he was her king._

_He was on his knees now, wrapping his arms around her from behind in a loving embrace as he nuzzled the crook of her neck..._

"_Mama! Mama!" As if appearing out of thin air, two children were skipping toward them, but the animals didn't scatter. Instead, they joined the newcomers, following the sound of their joyous laughter._

_The little girl who threw herself into her arms had blonde hair...blonde hair and striking blue eyes. And the little boy who went to Killian was dark-haired, green eyes twinkling mischievously. _

_She kissed the top of the girl's head, shivering when slender fingers tilted her chin upwards and her lips were captured by his passionate kiss. _

_Most of her dreams never allowed her to feel anything, but again she felt his warmth, his fervor, his hopes. His soul._

_She wanted him...wanted this..._

"_Papa!" they cried out in unison, their childish pouts of disgust making her pull away to laugh._

_Killian's answering laugh, deep and spine-tingling and filling, was the last thing she remembered before all became white, signaling the return of daylight..._

* * *

Emma didn't want to go back to the cottage. No, she wanted to demand Killian take her back to the dreamworld she had just been snatched from. Those had been her children... Hers...and his...

There was a dull ache in her heart when she pictured that that might never come to pass, that it was, after all, only a dream...

But it had been like his actions were real, like his wishes were nearly tangible. He wasn't some gauzy figure she had conjured for her own amusement ― he was breathing and living, responding vigorously to her touch, her presence...

"You never fail to surprise me, love." His hands were deeply inside the pockets of that same leather coat, his smile no longer playful but entirely sardonic. "Tell me, what do you hope to achieve with this?"

She didn't have the courage to look at him, not after she had met what could be her future family ― _their_ family. Would he know what she had seen ― would he read it in the planes of her face?

Struggling to take a deep breath, she finally glanced upward. "That is for me to know and for you to discover."

He clicked his tongue in disappointment, his gaze darkening. "You're determined to finish this, aren't you?"

"Precisely."

Nodding, he asked, "Well, milady...what reward do you desire for having passed the second test?"

It was so enticing to just say she wanted him. There was nothing stopping her ― he did say once that she could stay with him forever. Those burning eyes...that smolder...why should she resist?

But then images of Snow and Charming popped into her mind, and she couldn't make them go away. No matter what she desired, her conscience would continue to irk her until she did the right thing ― until she ended this by completing what she had set out to do.

"A hand mirror," she stammered, the magical comb weighing down her own pocket.

When he handed her the silver mirror, beautifully tarnished with traces of gold, he commented, "This is no ordinary mirror: it can show you the past, of what has been. Use it carefully."

And with that he paced away, vanishing into the smoky dawn as she bemusedly turned the mirror over and over in her hands.

* * *

"What's that?" Neal inquired, studying the mirror as if trying to recollect something lost.

She shrugged. "A mirror that shows you your past." A brilliant idea suddenly occurred to her. "Want a peek?"

He rubbed the back of his neck uneasily. "Nah, that's okay―"

"No, go on ― try it!" she encouraged, basically shoving the mirror into his hands.

She could not see what he saw, the mirror just returning his reflection, but whatever he was viewing must be horrible enough that his face was turning ghoulish pale and his eyes were widening. After several minutes like this, his posture gradually stiffening, he nearly threw the mirror at her, whipping his hands away as if they had been burned.

"Neal?" He silently stalked out of the room, heading for his chambers. "Neal!" He slammed the door viciously.

Emma sat down on one of the elegant russet chairs, shifting the mirror once more. He must have seen his father...his past... All she could see was what she was missing, her childhood home and her parents. But she remembered all that clearly, and it was paining her to do so.

Why couldn't Killian have given her a mirror that showed the future instead?

* * *

Amazingly, it was raining. She glowered at the obscured sunset behind gray clouds, scowling as drops of water stung her eyes and soaked her clothes. How in hell was she to take the last test when she had become a water carrier in the past half hour?

"Weather is fickle here ― matches my mood, I guess," Killian interrupted, his wild curls growing wet within seconds.

She sighed, trying to wrench some of the water from the skirt of her dress. "If only it would match my mood ― it would be springtime right now."

He smiled for an instant before scowling. "I said the weather, not the seasons. Here, there are no seasons, because there is no change."

She bit her lip to quiet her denial. Hadn't she caused change to happen? Hadn't everything changed when she had come?

"Ahem." He was regarding her sullenly, a question written there in his eyes. "Shall we? Unless you'd rather not?"

She shook her head rapidly. "I'm ready to end this."

Emma barely registered in her mind his pained grimace before they flew into the darkness.

* * *

There was no waiting this time. Immediately, the screeching and flapping of many wings beat about her face, and she nearly screamed when she saw talons and claws scratching at the open air.

A falconry. She had never liked falcons either. Better dogs and puppies and cats and kittens all in the same room than a brood of angry birds.

"Stop!" she shouted out of desperation. Surprisingly, the ruckus died down upon her command, but the falcons only perched gracefully on a lined pole before glaring at her pointedly, aggressiveness exuding from every ruffled feather.

"Hmm..." she said out loud, pondering on her predicament. Unconsciously, she thought of her last dream and began to sing the lullaby her mother had always used to help her fall asleep. Then one of the falcons tried to croon part of the lullaby in reply, and Emma was giggling nonstop.

"No, no...that's not how you sing. Here, let me show you..."

And for the remainder of the night, the princess hummed and sang every beloved song she knew, her pure voice echoing throughout the expansive space. She made her audience listen not because they were forced to, but because the melodies she was sharing were as enchanting as the thrum of any harp or the whistle of any flute.

Eventually, the birds throatily chirped along, joining in the chorus with intent eye and still body.

Together, they ensured that music would foreshadow the coming of the dawn.

* * *

_No vision this time, no color... Her vision was gone, so that she could only hear his voice, his heartbeat...and it broke her in two._

"_Emma...Emma, please don't leave me. I know you feel for me what I do for you...I see it...I sense it..." _

_Then his tone changed, was imploring and sad. "God, if I let you go now, I will perish all the more, alone without you. If you say I don't deserve you, you'd be right. I don't. All I can give you is my love...I have nothing to offer but myself, this wretched, rotting pirate. Me, and my blackened heart and soul scathed by magic. You deserve so much more, and I know it. You are filled with light...you shine more brightly for me than any sun ever could. Love is light, and hate is darkness. So don't you see why you must stay? You passed the tests because you are brave and good, your kindness and pure heart one of a kind. If you had run away, there would have been no hope or faith left, and the darkness would have preyed on your fears and devoured you. But you stood fast, you magnificent woman..._

"_Emma, we were meant to be together ― I believe it. And I only know that I will wither inside when you return to your life. I want to be a part of it, but...I'd never ask you to do something you do not want."_

_His voice cracked, and she felt that he was crying. "I was wrong: the day you came, you changed this world. You gave it the warmth of your light. You healed my heart, and you banished the darkness with every triumph of your love. I don't want to keep on living without you. And by God, I will not."_

"_Killian?" She was trembling, tears brushing her cheeks. When he didn't answer, she feared the worst. _

"_Killian!" she screamed, falling into a bottomless hole that had no light at the end of its tunnel. Only blackness enveloped her as she kept falling, tumbling, drowning..._

* * *

She tried to hide her red eyes when she saw him again, tried to conceal the way she kept peeking at him to be sure he didn't disappear.

"What shall your last reward be, lass?" he drawled, avoiding her gaze.

_You know what I truly want from you. _"A ring."

When he gestured to produce the piece of jewelry, purple smoke already visible, she disagreed, pointing at his hand. "No...one of _your_ rings."

His head snapped up, the most peculiar expression on his face before he paused, removing the golden band from his finger.

"My, my, Swan ― is this an offer?" he jested weakly, piercing sadness in his eyes while he dropped the ring onto the palm of her hand. She examined it, the intricate craftsmanship still intact after all these centuries.

"Does it have magical properties as well?"

He snorted. "Since it is part of who I am, it too has been corrupted by magic."

She tilted her head sideways. "Magic isn't all bad, Killian; it can be used for good."

He swallowed, peering down at his boots. "You can also say that about every living being, Emma ― but believe me, it is easier to be bad than it is to be good. I'm a marked example, and I've certainly reaped the consequences of that choice."

She was moving toward him, taking his hand to place it right above her heart. She didn't know why she was doing it, but she felt compelled to. This guilt and regret had to stop.

"Do you feel that?" she whispered, listening to his sharp intake of breath as his fingers accidentally grazed the upper curves of her breasts. Then she pulled his hand away to put it over his own heart, her fingers caressing the exposed skin there. "We have the same heartbeat."

His eyelids were closed, his breathing nearly ragged. If he could be so affected by one innocent touch...

"Killian..." she murmured into his ear. "If you want a future, you must put the past to rest. _I_ believe in you, in the goodness within you...but now you must believe in yourself."

Slowly backing away from him and not looking behind her, Emma retreated to the cottage, almost fearing what she knew she had to do tonight.

The time for making deals was done.

* * *

This hurt so much for one reason and one reason alone ― her entire body was in flames because of one plain fact.

She loved him. What was called the most complex emotion in all the worlds was really simple, just like her mother had said. Her love belonged to him, as did her heart, mind, and soul. There was no need to elaborate, to glorify the feeling with fancy words or give an extra flourish to that which was so powerful and binding on its own. Right now, it was coursing through her veins.

But no matter how much she cared for him...she could not stay. This was no paradise, and home was awaiting her ― after God only knew how long, she was finally ready to go back to it.

Which is why she had sneaked into Neal's bedroom and was shaking him furiously. "Neal? Neal? Wake up!"

He rolled over and covered his head with a pillow. "I know it's not morning yet..." he slurred.

She rolled her eyes and began to shake him again, deciding to forgo the niceties altogether when he still protested by pushing him out of the bed. He nearly jumped to his feet upon contact with the cold floor.

"What's going on?" he mumbled, rubbing sleep out of his eyes.

She put her hands on her hips. "We have to go."

"What for?" he whined childishly.

She said the first thing that entered her mind. "Because I'm asking you to. Also, we're in danger."

_There would be time to truthfully answer that later_, Emma thought to herself. The sun was already climbing over the horizon, and there wasn't time now.

Grabbing his hand, she yanked him towards the door, ignoring his demands for his shoes as they exited the cottage. He scowled when she pushed him to run faster, her legs already aching.

She could only hope that Rumplestiltskin was right and her magic was pure enough to help her cross the boundary once more.

She could only hope her will was strong enough, because that was her greatest concern.

Her will to leave him forever.

Her choice to not have him for her own.

And true to their connection, she felt rather than heard Killian's anguished scream when she threw the pulsing wooden comb onto the ground, startled by the woods that magically sprang behind them, full-grown trees and shrubs rising from the meadow in front of the cottage.

_Your rewards will be what you will them to become._

* * *

Neal huffed and puffed, but she pressed on, determined. Now they had a real head start.

She paced herself, harshly pulling Neal along whenever he stopped to catch his breath but taking advantage of the pause nevertheless to observe the natural markers carefully. When she believed they were halfway to the boundary, she threw the mirror onto the ground next, helplessly awestruck when it transformed into a glassy lake, clear and cold.

Almost there, almost there...

_Emma...EMMA!_

Her heart shuddered at the sound of his tormented voice. He was longing for her... _A man who doesn't fight for what he wants deserves what he gets_, she mused, _so do it, Killian. Fight for me._

She was in front of the invisible barrier, willing that she and Neal would be able to go through.

_Magic is emotion..._

It still wouldn't budge, as inflexible as glass. The situation worsened when a harried Killian appeared between her and the final wall, his hair mussed. There were twigs all over his clothes, and he looked completely drenched.

He said nothing, his eyes speaking more eloquently than any words could. There was an unmistakable aura of darkness around him; the last of it was combating the last of the light ― without her, there would be no light here. But strangely, it seemed to be fighting for her to stay instead of making her leave, dragging her backward when she wanted go forward. It was like pushing against the hardiest wind.

Her temptation.

Then her fingers traveled of their own accord to her pocket, and she recalled the ring. So personal, so his... It was like a token of his love, a reminder of hers.

Love. _Love is light and hate is darkness... And magic is emotion._

She brought forward images of her parents, her home, her family ― her fingers tingled, turning golden. And then she thought of her kingdom, how she was needed ― and the power was surging, almost electrifying her but not released. Her magic needed more... _This wasn't enough?_ Last but not least, she recalled Killian, his smile, their dreams...

_Love is never weakness, for it is always strength..._

And she was thrown to the ground as light burst from her heart, shattering the dark like a hurricane toppling a shaky building. Knocked to her feet, she could only stare as the barrier crackled defiantly before snapping back, Killian's realm covered by white light before all was layered in color once more.

Emma reveled in the magic flowing outward, the heat building inside.

The spell had been broken, because light was now in her blood, her heart, and her mind ― and the darkness was no more, because she had redeemed Killian with her love.

* * *

Understandably, Neal looked more than a little stricken after that display and especially when his father popped out from his hiding spot behind a tree on the other side of the Enchanted Forest, seemingly unperturbed by what had just happened.

"Well done, dearie ― I knew you could do it." Ignoring Killian completely, the smug grin on Rumplestiltskin's face was wiped off when he noticed a very uncomfortable-looking Bae standing next to Emma.

"Bae?" he whispered, holding out his arms to his son. "I've waited hundreds of years for this moment...my boy..."

Neal had the most hurt, wounded expression on his face. "Papa?" he managed, his voice soft and quivering. "I remember..."

Emma wanted to witness the culmination of this touching reunion, but all she could see was the look of betrayal Killian was directing at her, his eyes blazing. She had forgotten he was still here, seeing all this.

"You did all this...came here...because of _him_? To send Bae back to the crocodile? The monster who is responsible for all this?" he growled, enraged.

She suddenly was ashamed of herself, of hiding the truth from him, but that reaction didn't last for long. Anger was dominant when she glowered back at him furiously. "If it wasn't for this _monster_, I would never have found you!"

"Who bloody cares if you found me!" he yelled. "You lied to me about everything, Emma! You have magic, you contrived to escape with Neal, you offered me the deal we had because of the deal you made with Rumplestiltskin―"

The man in question snorted loudly. "Bae, let's be off ― no need to listen to this lover's quarrel―"

"Wait." Neal went over to take Emma's hands in his. "I just wanted to―"

"It was a lie, Neal." She looked down. "I only flirted with you...showed you the mirror...because I wanted to convince you to leave with me, so I could take you to your father. I don't...I..."

He smiled sadly. "I know. But what I really wanted to do was thank you. This hiding...it's gone on long enough." He nodded at Killian. "It's time to put the past behind us. To make peace. To live."

"Yes, let's go home, my son." Rumplestiltskin patted Neal on the back, trying to usher him down the path at the same time. But Emma wasn't finished with him. She had seen out of the corner of her eye how Killian was pacing back and forth, only hesitating when she told Neal she didn't have any feelings for him.

"Rumplestiltskin," she ordered in her most commanding voice, flustered beyond belief and not sure of what she was about to do. She could ask for anything...he owned more artifacts and treasures than kings did...but she was asking for this...to return what had been lost...

He half-turned. "Yes, dearie? I'm rather in a hurry to get home, so if you have any last words..."

She lifted a brow. "As I recall, we had a deal: Neal's safe return in exchange for a favor."

"Quite right," he admitted grudgingly. "And what kind of favor, dear princess, did you have in mind?"

She could only imagine how much Killian was flushing when he heard that bit of information. Laying a hand on the former Dark One's hand, she focused on one memory, her love channeling through unimpeded. He was no stranger to magic, so she would help him use it one last time ― for good.

"You know what I want," she whispered, waving her hand gently. He looked displeased with her request, but he imitated her gesture, the object she wanted wrapped in a thick red cloth when it appeared on the top of her palm.

"I trust you'll have no trouble re-attaching it?"

And with a few more strides, father and son were in the heart of the forest, their conversation muffled. Emma sincerely hoped she would never have to meet with that man again...

_You never know, dearie..._

Sighing, she turned to see Killian leaning against a tree, still angry as hell. "Look..." she began, walking toward him shakily. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you the truth, but Rumplestiltskin instructed me not to do certain things so the darkness wouldn't capture my heart. I never wanted to hurt you, Killian..."

"Well, since we're being so honest here, lass," he replied sarcastically, arms crossed over his chest, "I have a few secrets to divulge as well. That wee rabbit and fawn you loved...Peter and Bambi, was it?...that was me. I was they. And our dreams? If you'd only told me about your magic sooner ― like when we first met ― I could have told you our minds were connected by the magic we both had. You felt what I felt, remembered what I remembered, saw what I desired...usually at night, when darkness deepened our bond." Now that he was finished with his tirade, he stopped short, realizing what he had just said.

Emma didn't care about the last part ― it was the former that was making her see red. "_You_...you...you took advantage of me!" She wanted to scream at him, to punch him hard. "All those days I talked...spilled my heart out...it was you lying there on my lap? And I even...I rocked Peter against my... How the hell could you do that to me?"

His lips twitched, as if he was trying to hold back a laugh and keep his fierce scowl. _He looked really adorable when he was angry,_ Emma smiled to herself. Her grin disappeared when he retorted, "You really didn't see that coming?"

She sputtered, still livid about the animal deception. Of course she should have figured that out on her own. It was all too obvious, just as the dreams had been. She was feeling extremely foolish and rather embarrassed.

"Okay, so we both lied to each other." She stepped closer to him, wary. "But I want you to know, Killian, that I never lied to you about how I felt...what I still feel, for you. If you want to never see me again, I understand, but before you go, I have something for you...something that was once yours."

She tentatively unclasped the hook from its position in the brace, pausing when he tensed under her touch. "You have to trust me," she pleaded, gazing into his eyes unblinkingly. Seeing affirmation there, she continued until she had removed his coat, his shirt, and the entire brace itself.

"If I didn't know better, my love, I'd say you were trying to seduce me."

When he tried to say something more, she pressed her fingers against his lips. "Let me concentrate..."

It was quick, her emotion at its peak. One moment she was holding his hand ― his left hand, perfectly preserved for being kept in a glass case for over three centuries ― and the next, she was channeling her magic a second time, but now through the very man who had caused it to reawaken.

A flash of brightness, a cry of pain, and it all was over.

"Emma..." He was looking at his former hand in wonder, twisting it and moving it disbelievingly. The final straw was when he caressed her cheek with those fingers. She kissed them in return, her tears wetting the tips.

"My quest is over, Killian, and now I can go home." She smiled at him. "Will you come with me?"

There was such ardor and love coming from his eyes that she was mesmerized by the glow, the light they emitted. "I'll stay with you for eternity, my darling Emma, if you want me to. If...you love me."

Holding his face in her hands, she kissed along his jaw to reach his mouth. "Oh, I do," she murmured before she wrapped her arms around him, her lips finding his. That rush of light came again, warmer than ever as it enfolded their bodies when their kiss deepened.

There was no separating them anymore. Magic and fate and their hearts had spoken.

They were True Love.

* * *

"I wonder what your parents will say when you bring home a dashing enchanter instead of some daft prince."

Emma leaned into Killian, her hand squeezing his while they walked under the leafy ceiling of sky and bough, set on the path to the castle. She had never been happier. "I guess we'll just have to find out, won't we?"

"Indeed we will," he smirked, his hand curling behind her neck to pull her into another kiss as he slipped the ring he had given her onto her finger. "Together, we are invincible."

* * *

THE END OF THE BEGINNING

* * *

**A/N: But seriously, this is the end. I just believe in what Lemony Snicket said, that the end is merely where the author chooses to stop telling the story. But the story really goes on and on...**

**I confess: the next chapter of _One Against the Wind_ was delayed partly by the ideas for this three-shot, which just wouldn't leave me alone. And partly because of a nasty writer's block, but that's _that_.**

**Actually, I'm quite pleased with how this story turned out. But how 'bout you? Tell me via a review? Hope you enjoyed my Captain Swan retelling of "Petronella" ― the original's a really great fairy tale, you should check it out!**


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